


Advice from an Old-timer

by sheankelor



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Old Spies are good, Self-Made Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-02-04 13:05:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12771684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheankelor/pseuds/sheankelor
Summary: Severus wasn't formally trained as a spy by either side. Luckily for him, someone noticed and took him in hand. Marty might be old, but that didn't mean he couldn't help the younger generation.





	Advice from an Old-timer

**Author's Note:**

> This tale has been hanging about in my files for a bit now, so I guess it's time to post it. It's not been beta'ed, so if you happen to see something, please be so kind as to let me know. Thanks! Ree

Severus Snape pulled his pint closer to him as someone sat next to him. He wasn't home long – the Dark Lord and Dumbledore both had laid claim to his time ever since he agreed to do anything to protect Lily – so he wanted to just ignore the world while he could. The unwanted company felt like they'd settled in for the long haul, watching him carefully as if they could find the future in his averted face.

Silence reigned.

Severus shifted in his seat turning his shoulder to the unwanted person while wanting to walk away, wanting to finish his pint, wanting his unwanted company to walk away. None of these was granted. The person's mug clunked on the bar, empty by the sound of it.

"Boy, you and I have some talking to do." A familiar hand waved his mug away as Severus tried to place the soft-spoken voice. "You've no need of that now. One doesn't drink as much as you've been doing in our line of work."

Severus jerked his head around as his mug was removed from his almost lax grip. Tired black eyes widened as he recognised the old man next to him – Marty McKinley. Severus grew up watching this man, wanting to emulate his ability to let every slight and slur slide away like water off a duck's back. He'd studied him as much as he could, not caring that he was obvious about it. McKinley never seemed to mind. Faded blue eyes watched him now, understanding filling them before they became as empty as a cloudless sky.

"Come on, boy," McKinley stood up and paid the barkeep before tugging Severus to his feet, "let's walk."

The air outside was bracing, the bite of winter just entering it, and succeeded in pulling Severus' brain slightly out of the alcoholic stupor he tried to steep it in. The strong but loose grip on his elbow kept him moving in the direction McKinley wanted him to go. Severus tried to focus on where they were going, but his mind kept whirling. Thoughts of what both his masters were demanding of him, how to keep Lily safe if they both failed their promises, and on occasions, what McKinley thought his line of work was filled it. As far as he could remember, the old man was a writer who worked odd jobs to support himself or to fill the time.

It wasn't until he was sitting at the man's kitchen table with a strong cup of tea that his mind cleared enough to realise where he was.

"I don't know if you're part of Box 500 or the SIS," sharp blue eyes watched Severus as he frowned, "but you need a bit more training than they've given you if you're sitting in a pub looking like that."

Severus blinked and stared at McKinley. He knew people in the community – especially the old timers – chastised the man for not joining the military during any of the wars. Now Severus wondered if the man had participated but in a secret capacity. He knew that Box 500 was the old timer's name for MI5 and that the SIS was MI6.  _'He's a spy? A retired one?'_

McKinley poured him another cup of tea and added a digestive onto the saucer. "One never retires from the force, just get that myth out of your head now. You're just one who's on a long holiday."

After a nibble of the biscuit, Severus wondered how he could take a potion to help clear his head. He was sure he was going to need it before long, especially if he was speaking his thoughts aloud. No opportunity presented itself. "How'd you know I'm an operative?"

"I've been watching you for the past week and recognised the signs. I've seen enough raw recruits." McKinley sipped his own tea and leant back in the ladder back chair. "I don't want to see you killed anytime soon – I like you, boy. So, I'm going to explain some hard truths that them up at the Home Office or the Foreign Office didn't share."

His teacup clinked on its saucer and he held a thin dirt stained finger up into the air only to lower it slowly, a considering look crossing his face. A quick nod to some internal decision brought Severus' attention back from the inside of his teacup.

"I know you've had to have heard the song 'The Gambler', it's all over the airways here recently." McKinley continued when Severus nodded. "Well, an operative is a type of gambler. Not the same as the one in the song, but we gamble with information."

"Not our life?" the question slipped out of Severus, coated in the surprise he felt. When it did, Severus swore off the alcohol – it  _would_ be his life if he did that at a Death Eater meeting.

McKinley shook his head. "No, Death's your friend. A constant companion, even a lover you can't take to your bed yet. I know – they taught you to kill yourself if you think you're found out, but you'll find that's the easy route. Death is the absolute last resort, a friend you let visit others, and you  _will_ see your friends and compatriots die. Never doubt that."

Severus didn't as memories seemed to swamp McKinley. The white head shook as if to knock loose leaves off of it, scattering whatever thoughts had trapped him.

"To hold your cover you'll have to do and see things you can never unsee or undo." Blue eyes bore into black. "Give  _everyone_  as clean a death as you can – your side, their side, no side – it doesn't matter. Let them all die as quick and painless as your cover will allow. Kill'em before their captured with a quick shot, slip them poison – unseen – during a torture session, break the spine to kill the nerve endings so they can't feel pain if you can't kill them fast, but ..." The unfocused eyes seemed to reflect the horrors that McKinley was talking about. They then focused back on Severus, digging deep into his soul. "Remember that Death is your friend, your lover, she'll do what you ask most'f the time."

Swallowing the last of his tea harder than he had intended, Severus agreed. It was impossible not to with those eyes demanding it.

McKinley's expression faded back into the congenial old man Severus was used to seeing. "As the song said, 'you've got to know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em, know when to walk away, and when to run'. Your cover, the information you're gaining, everything that you're there for – you've got to know what's important and what's happening around you. You've got to understand everyone you're attempting to fool – even yourself."

Severus frowned. "Fool myself?"

McKinley nodded once with a no-nonsense look covering his lined face. "Most especially yourself. If you can't wear a mask well enough that you believe that that's you except in your heart of hearts, then you're going to be caught. You've got to be the person they expect you to be so that they'll trust you. Will hand you the information you're there to collect.

"You've got to be that mask so that the moment your loyalty's questioned your response is spot on. It's those crucial moments that'll prove to them one way or the other who you are. In their moment of doubt, you can assess the situation and determine if you can stay put, walk away, or run.

"It'd help if you make up a different name, so you can call that mask someone else, and Snape will be who you truly are."

Severus shook his head. "Not an option, both sides already know who I am."

A white eyebrow rose slightly and blue eyes studied him, digging deeper into his soul either of his two masters.

"Fell for the wrong side and then switched?" was the only question McKinley asked.

Severus nodded. "Both think I'm their operative and both think I'm double-crossing the other."

"Then you've two faces to wear, or find one that'll serve for both." The old man rested his elbows on the table, his forgotten teacup between them. "You also got to understand and know why you're doing this. It can't be because of a person – people die."

Severus clenched his free hand in his lap. Lily couldn't die. He'd find a way to keep her safe.

The old man shook his head. "Your face says it. Someone is the reason, not something. You've got to find a something or you'll fail when your someone passes on. Find an ideal that you can cling to, that deep in your heart will define you, and then that's what you work for."

Blue eyes clouded over with tempered pain, as the older man continued. "Trust me – it's for the better. When that someone dies – especially because of you – it can destroy you, and when that happens many more people will die. You're left floundering, hunting for something to latch onto, a reason to face your enemy as a friend, information you needed to send gets left as unimportant, your cover is threatened, and the people who're trusting you..." His voice trailed off and McKinley closed his eyes briefly before sighing deeply.

"Back to what you've got to know." Another digestive ended up on Severus' saucer. "You've got to know what information to hold on to, what to throw away, and what to pass on." His lips twisted into a semblance of a smirk before it faded away. "Don't throw any of it away. You never know when it'll make sense or when it'll be useful. It might be the key to a locked door – the passage to a haven that you didn't know about until the time came. Pass on what's relevant at the moment or requested, keep a hold of everything else."

"Who can I trust?" The alcohol spoke again and Severus bit back a sigh.

"As a double agent?" McKinley picked back up his teacup. "Someone you're positive's not involved, and even then you've got to be careful.

"If you need to talk … you can tell me about it. Just tell me about it in a fanciful tale – like it happened in one of those fantasy novels. Don't use real names or places."

' _That'd be fairly easy – I can actually tell him about the Wizarding World and he won't think it's real.'_  Relief Severus hadn't expected filled him.

"That's later," McKinley narrowed his eyes slightly and sized him up. "First thing first – we've got to get rid of this raw recruit air and teach you some of the basics. I bet neither side bothered."

As Severus shook his head, the old man harrumphed and set about making a training schedule.

§§§§§

"The leader's gone?" Marty McKinley studied Severus carefully noting the exhaustion, grief, and fear. "You're going to be tried as a follower?"

Severus gave a jerky shrug. "The spymaster on the winning side said not to worry."

A wry grin curved Marty's lips. "The organisation is still around and he needs you in with them. Your cover hasn't been blown yet, has it?"

Severus shook his head.

"As both know you're an operative, at least those higher up, he'll probably announce that you were, and your cover is still not blown. You're going to have to do some patch-up work with the losing side, but if your foundation is sound, you can do so." Marty rested a comforting hand on the black-clad arm on his table. "It'll be hard, but if you can, and it works with your reason, then I would do so. If not, see if they can find you a new name and a new position. You can even get a new face – plastic surgery is making leaps and bounds nowadays."

"I'll stay and keep doing my job." Severus shook himself slightly as if shaking off all the doubts clinging to him. "This war isn't over yet. The spymaster thinks the other leader is still alive. That he slipped out and is in hiding."

"Then enjoy the time you have while you wait, but don't lose your mask."

§§§§§

"Fourteen years – it's been fourteen years." Severus had long since cast a full battery of privacy wards and spells around Marty's house, so he wasn't worried about anyone hearing their conversation. "The Dark Leader is back and even more insane than he was before. Blames a baby for ousting him last time and has sworn to kill the boy now."

Marty's wrinkled face wrinkled even more as he frowned. His blue eyes were even more faded but just as sharp as Severus remembered from the time he had learned the man was a member of MI6. He had never asked exactly what the old man had done in the war, but he knew Marty worked through WWII, the Korean War, the Vietnam War, and had been out of the country a lot during peacetime as well. He also knew that the old operative worked behind the lines in all of those places. He was pulled out of his musings – he still had no idea how Marty worked behind the lines in Korea or Vietnam – by the man's question.

"Are you assigned to watch the boy, or are you going back to being a double agent?" Marty's tone showed he believed the later was true.

"As the boy is going to Hogwarts, I get to do both." Severus grinned wryly. He knew that Marty didn't believe in the school for Witchcraft and Wizardry, but would understand that he was working close enough to Harry to guard him. "I just can't let anyone know I'm keeping him alive."

Marty nodded in understanding. "If you get caught, then you can tell the Dark side that the Light Leader said to and you were waiting for direct orders from the Dark Leader to act against him."

Severus let his grin turn into a true smile. "That's my plan."

"Do you have an escape plan? A way to get away if you have to – a place to vanish?"

Marty's absolute stillness clued Severus into the importance of the question. His answer was just as serious. "No. I figured I was destined to die at the end of this. It's the only way out I can see."

The old man left the room only to return with a slim folder. "I took the liberty to call in a couple of outstanding favours I had in the Office." He slid the folder over to Severus. "Thomas McKinley – my son from an illicit affair – just recently discovered I'm his father. Until this moment, he would use his old name. I'm beginning the process of purchasing him a house out in the country." Blue eyes steadily rested on Severus' face. "I just need to know where he wants to live – where'll be safe."

Severus flipped open the folder and stared at his own picture along with an entirely new biographical information. He shot a surprised look up at the other man. "Me? What about your real family? Surely they deserve this more than I do."

A sad look flitted over Marty's face. "There's no one else. Let me give you a new persona, a home, a safe place. I've seen you as my son for years, Severus."

Severus closed the folder, his chest tight with emotion. "Cumbria, Shropshire, or even in the depths of Wales, Dad."

Marty flashed him a relieved smile,"Not Yorkshire, son? They've some marvellous parks there."

"I'd rather be close to you."

"I won't be around much longer." A sigh escaped the smiling lips. "I'm already seventy-three. Longer than I thought to be around."

Severus understood that. There were times he was surprised he was still alive and hadn't been playing this game near as long as Marty. "Do I need to make an appearance at the new house?"

"Of course," Marty tapped the folder. "You've got to introduce the community to Thomas before you escape. They gave you a job: a travelling hospitality person. So, you're contracted to work in hotels around the world, which you've all the appropriate credentials filed if you want to take up that career when you escape, and if not, you can just settle down there."

"I want a garden large enough that I won't see my neighbours, but close enough to a village that I can get to the local pub easily."

Marty jotted that down next to where he wrote the county names.

§§§§§

Severus ignored Umbridge and the other curious staff members, especially Albus, as he offered the post owl a part of his bacon. The muggle envelope was tucked into his robes before prying eyes could even tell that it wasn't a parchment scroll.

Later that morning, before his first class, he opened it.

_Son,_

_I know you weren't expecting to hear from me. I've completed the transaction we were discussing over the summer. Contact me at your earliest convenience, preferably by phone or in person._

_Until then,_

_Dad_

Severus destroyed the note, knowing Marty would expect no less and resolved to talk to Albus about a weekend trip over the Christmas Holidays that started next week.

§§§§§

Marty watched as another man moved into Severus' place. The man's shifty eyes and general air told him that he was an operative as well, just as poorly trained as Severus had been all those years ago. Severus' attitude told him that his guest worked for the Dark side. Putting on his best congenial mask, he continued up the steps and into the house. He was making a pot of tea long before the shifty-eyed man even noticed he was around.

"Why are you in here?" the man squeaked in surprise.

"I always come by to welcome Severus home." Marty caught Severus' eye roll behind the other man. "I've got a cottage pie ready for you, Severus. I know the cupboard is bare as normal. It's in the oven warming."

Severus walked around the guest and reached up for three cups and dug out the sugar bowl. He filled the bowl from a sealed container as he spoke. "Mr McKinley, this is Peter Pettigrew. My boss has us working together on a project this summer, so he is staying." The three cups and the bowl were placed on the table along with the jug of milk Marty had brought with him. "Pettigrew, this is Mr McKinley. He takes care of the house while I'm off and visits often while I'm home. He's been known to ramble for hours about the old times like all old men do."

Marty gave a small smile, accepting the role that Severus assigned him. It was easy enough to do and he would be here to help keep an eye on Pettigrew. Settling at the table, he poured for the three of them. "Did your father or grandfather fight in the War, Pettigrew?"

§§§§§

"I don't know how long I can be here." Severus sank into the offered seat, taking the pushed over cup of tea. "I had to kill the Light spymaster – his orders – so I can take over Hogwarts and protect the students." He sighed as the sip of tea warmed his insides. "None of the others believe I'm on the Light side now."

"No, they wouldn't after that. The spymaster didn't tell anyone that was the plan, did he?" Marty studied him, looking for who knew what. "Before you take off, talk to me about the old man's death. Was it clean? Quick? The best you could do at the time?"

Grief dug through him, but those questions grounded him. "No, he didn't tell anyone. It was quick and clean. He was already poisoned and even with the best medical attention he was dying."

"I'm packing up most of your things and moving them to the new house bit by bit. Anything you don't want me to touch, tell me now." Marty leant over and rested a hand on Severus'. "Everything else is in ready."

Severus rested his other hand on top of Marty's. "I'm helping you pack, Dad. The Dark Leader is expecting me to be living here but on call."

§§§§§

Marty sat on the front porch, watching the birds fly, listening to the sounds coming from the inside of the house. Last summer the village nearby became used to him being there – he was Thomas' dad after all. This summer he was nursing the boy back to health. He spread the rumour that Thomas was bitten by a poisonous snake at one the exotic locations he worked in. He also was spreading about that it might've been the boy's last job in the field.

Mrs Patterson, the local snake guru, has stopped by that morning to check on them and offered plenty of advice on how to get Thomas back on his feet sooner.

The sound of coughing pulled him into the house. It was time to play nursemaid again.

§§§§§

Severus dropped a handful of dirt onto the casket all the while holding back tears by force of will.

Marty's last days had been happy ones, of that Severus was positive of. His death had been quick and in his sleep. They'd had a good dinner that evening with a spirited conversation about which local farmer could rent the fields further from the house. Then they'd retired to their rooms. The next morning, Severus found him already passed on. Doc swore it was peaceful and Severus believed him – he's seen plenty of both types of death in his time.

As Marty didn't have any family that he could find, Severus had him buried near their home, in the village cemetery. Severus had convinced Marty to move to Shropshire and live with him five years after the Battle of Hogwarts. It had been worth living the last four years more in the Muggle World than the Wizarding one. Over the past year, the older man had unburdened himself – telling Severus all the stories that he had never expected to hear.

He learned about the girl that was originally Marty's reason for being an operative, about her death at the enemies hand, and how he had flubbed an assignment causing the death of several soldiers in the field.

He learned about how he changed himself completely to become an operative in North Korea and did it again in North Vietnam.

He learned that the mild-mannered old man of his hometown could speak a multitude of languages fluently, had killed and tortured in cold blood, and that his last mission had been just before the Battle of Hogwarts and kept expecting to be called in until his dying breath was released.

Stepping away from the grave, Severus waited nearby as the undertakers filled it in. The house would feel empty without Marty.

§§§§§

Setting down his quill, Severus stared at the letter, wondering if he should even send it. The Wizarding World believed he was dead.

Shunting the thought of burning it away, he addressed the envelope to an address he was familiar with but had never used and walked out to deliver it to the Post Office. He hoped Minerva would visit and have an open mind.

§§§§§

Headmistress McGonagall stared at the letter wondering what she should do. The writer – one Thomas McKinley – was not a person she was familiar with, but that didn't immediately preclude them from consideration for the position.  _'I don't even know if they're applying for it. The letter could have accidentally been put into the applicant stack.'_

The insistence of Mr McKinley of meeting in a village pub in Shropshire was another point against the man.

Minerva set the letter down on a blank section of her desk and picked up another missive from her stack of applicants. Even as she read through them, her attention was continually drawn back to the muggle paper and its message. Her instincts, ones she had learned over the years to listen to, were telling her to answer this one. To go to Shropshire and meet the writer. Giving in, she wrote a reply, asking for a meeting next Monday evening. Hopefully, the pub wouldn't be a full, or Mr McKinley would know of a better place to retire too.

Her owl returned the next morning. The meeting was set and Minerva was even more anxious to meet the writer. There was something in her subconscious that perked up every time she looked at his letters.

Monday didn't come fast enough for the Headmistress and dressed as a Muggle, she strode into the Black Anvil. A quick glance about the taproom showed a fairly thin crowd – a dozen or so patrons sitting at the tables near the windows, a handful over near the bar itself, and then one in the deep shadows in the back. Something about the way the man sat, his posture, the way the shadows seemed to cling to him made her pause and study him closer, her eyes searching for something she wasn't even sure what was.

The man then lifted his head and the light from the fixture nearest him highlighted his face. Gasping, her eyes rolled up in her head and Minerva fainted.

§§§§§

Severus darted across the room, casting a wordless and wandless cushioning spell just in case. His fingers closed about her arm and slowed her descent to the floor. Chaffing her wrists, he began to question his idea of meeting here.

"Thomas, she's going to be all right?" Marcus called out from behind the bar.

Severus nodded, while he noted the colour slowly returning to Minerva's face as she gave signs of coming to. "She'll not react to being embarrassed like this well. A private room, a bottle of  _good_  scotch whisky, and two glass would go a long way to making it better."

"Can you carry her up the stairs and into the first room on the right?" Marcus pulled two glasses out and reached for the best scotch whisky under the bar. "I'll bring these up with us."

Severus cast a quick featherweight spell and then hefted Minerva up and pretended to stagger to the room. Marcus followed behind him, a hand resting on his back helping to keep his balance.

The door closed as the other man left, leaving Severus to take care of the Headmistress. Severus took a moment to cast a series of privacy spells on the room and waited, whisky poured.

Hazel eyes flew open, searched the room, and landed on him once again. "You're alive!? How? Potter saw you die!"

Severus pulled her to her feet – she never liked to be seated when she was upset – and put her glass into her hand. "I was prepared for the attack and I had help from my Dad. He treated me when I got home."

Minerva shook her head, confusion thick on her face. "Severus, I know your Dad died – he passed away in your Seventh Year. I remember Slughorn telling us about it. We were all surprised it didn't affect your NEWTs."

Severus snorted lightly before taking a single sip from his glass and watched her until she did as well. "Tobias Snape did pass away then, and it honestly didn't bother me too much. The man was beyond ignorant and cruel the last couple of years he was alive. No, Marty McKinley took up the role of my Dad after Tobias passed. Not long before I began teaching. He helped create my new identity – Thomas McKinley. Severus Snape is dead, Minerva."

She shook her head before sighing. "Then we need to get Severus Snape's OWL, NEWT, and Mastery scores transferred into Thomas McKinley's name. Kingsley can do it if you trust him."

Severus gestured to the sofa while he settled into a wing-backed armchair. "Why? I just wanted you to know I'm alive so that I could apologise for my actions my last year at Hogwarts."

Minerva raised an eyebrow before letting a small smile curl her lips. "No apology needed. Potter and Albus' portrait explained what happened."

A bit of relief filled Severus, his heart lightening. "That doesn't explain why you think my scores need to be transferred."

"Why, because you applied for the Defence Against Dark Arts position. Hogwarts will be happy to accept your application as you are eminently qualified to teach it." Her smile grew as she spoke. "But we'll have to do something about your appearance. You look too much like our late Headmaster whose portrait was recently hung on the wall – Potter's insistence."

"I didn't apply for any position." Severus shook his head, his eyes widening slightly. He didn't even want to consider his portrait. "I just asked to see you, nothing else."

"Your letter was in the pile of applicants." Minerva leant forward, her eyes almost twinkling. "It must have been Fate that did it. So, you do have a way of permanently changing your appearance?"

Severus nodded. "But the villagers around here won't understand why I did so."

"Change your nose, shorten your hair and lighten it slightly. That really should be all you need to do. That and act unlike Snape."

Severus gave a quick shake of his head. "Hold it, I didn't apply – you shouldn't be hiring me. I'm sure there are better-qualified people."

Minerva laughed. "None – we still have the same problem that Albus did. All the good ones were weeded out by the curse, so now that it's broken, we're only getting the Lockharts and Umbridges."

With a cross between a groan and a sigh, Severus answered her, "You and Kingsley are the only ones to know. You get my scores transferred, and I'll teach. There is no way the next generations can be subjected to such abysmal professors."

"I'll let you know the moment I do." She finished her scotch and held her glass out for a refill. "Now, where's your home and what have you been doing for the last nine years."

Severus picked up the bottle and gestured for her to follow him. "I'll buy the bottle and we can continue this conversation back at home. I'll cook something for us to eat with it."

On the walk home, he knew it was time to develop a new mask, though maybe he could keep Thomas and use it well.

§§§§§

Minerva sat up straight, her eyes watching the door waiting for the First Years to enter. Off on either side were her professors, many of them fairly new, but a few of them had been there a while. The newest of the faculty – Professor Thomas McKinley – had met the rest of the staff over the past week. Minerva had been very impressed with the way Severus handled himself. No one who had known him knew who he was. Not even the portraits in the Headmaster's office seemed to.

The door opened, and she smiled. It was a new year with new opportunities. She couldn't wait to see how Severus dealt with them.


End file.
